


Fate Is Funny Like That

by neverendingworlds



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Confessions, Denial of Feelings, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Masa/Ren being complicated whoo, Mild Language, Romance, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-03-29 19:23:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19026331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverendingworlds/pseuds/neverendingworlds
Summary: The members of STARISH and QUARTET NIGHT have been set on the same intertwining path for years, a friendship and rivalry that seems written in the stars. Their journeys parallel in strange ways. But romance? Romance is new.(AKA: Reiji pushing Otoya and Tokiya together screaming 'now kiss',  Ranmaru being frustrated by stupid, sexy Reiji and Masato making the tragic mistake of inviting his best frenemy over for a civil apology dinner)





	1. Ranmaru - Poison Kiss

After the jingling of keys and click of the door, only muffled sounds of the city remained. No TV running in the background, no music, no chatter, no lamplight. Only the soft glow of streetlights and colder colours of the skyline were left to light the room. 

Ranmaru smiled. A certain airhead forgot to close the damn curtains, all the reminder he needed. “I'm back,” he murmured. _I'm home._

Nothing and no one answered his call, almost a relief. The rocker set about unlacing his combat boots with a steady rhythm, startling only when the room shone with a sudden and artificial light with a click. His head snapped to the source of the sound, met with a soft chuckle.

A familiar figure leaned against the hallway door-frame, running his fingers through damp brown hair. Stray droplets slipped down bare shoulders, his collarbone. Skin. An expanse of it, Reiji's entire torso was bare, a moderate distance that should have been safe but wasn't. The symptoms didn't usually aggravate unless the two were close; Reiji's breath on his ear, scent surrounding him, arm slung around his shoulder. Accidental touches and puppy-dog eyes all up in his face, the context hardly mattered. If it was Reiji, and Reiji was close, Ranmaru felt that weird, disjointed mishmash of feelings he'd rather not think about. Feelings that the older man's presence alone had seemed to summon that night, with the sheen of his skin and the gentle lilt of his voice.

_Damn him._

“Ran-Ran. Welcome back.” Reiji smiled, and Ranmaru felt his chest tighten. It wasn't the one that reached his eyes, crinkled the edges. Why did he know that? Why could he instantly tell? “I was just about to make a snack, you hungry?” Reiji turned and made his way towards the kitchen benches, and the contours of his back were no less mesmerising. “Ahhh, who am I kidding? You're always hungry.” His shoulders shook a little as he chortled at his own comment.

Ranmaru's lip twitched, upward. Almost a smile, but not quite. Too tired for that. “Yeah.”

“Midnight snack for two, coming right up! Hue hue~” The brunette pumped his fist in the air, which was cute. Goddamn it. But the display of energy, whether put on or real, made Ranmaru's body feel all the heavier. The empty space in the conversation where he'd usually call his friend an idiot or remind him that midnight had come and gone flew by unused, punctuated by the crack of bones in the bassist's arm as he stretched and sighed. 

And of _course_ Reiji noticed, as if he had some supernatural sense. He turned to face the bassist and cocked his head to the side.

“Long day?” The sympathetic expression was as severe as the tonal whiplash. Only Reiji could switch from unbearably cute to mature and understanding (fuck, _handsome_ ) in the blink of an eye. Ranmaru rotated his shoulder gently and pretended not to notice or care.

“Yeah.” Nothing too out of the ordinary, just full of small annoyances – from mistakes with his make up to the assistant director being a fucking jackass, and the struggle of not saying those exact words to his stupid, ugly face. His face soured at the memory. “You could say that.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” Ranmaru said, and it was the truth. He didn't want to talk about it. Didn't see the point. But, Reiji asked, and so he made an effort to speak as he pulled off his too-tight boots. “Another case of demanding directors, and... just, an off day, I guess.”

“Just one of those days, huh? We all have those.” Reiji's tone was wizened, world weary, though his voice disappeared into the refrigerator. It devolved into distracted hums and the sound of jars being shuffled across shelves.

“And you?” Two words, as few words as possible, but they were words. And he'd spoken them, out loud. This was trying.

“How was my day?” Reiji's head popped out of the refrigerator as if to confirm Ranmaru had really asked about his day. The rocker simply nodded. “Oh, it was fine. Busy as always. Tonight was fun though!” 

Ranmaru flopped down onto the couch, kicking his feet up onto the table. He closed his mismatched eyes, listening for the sound of Reiji's voice. The refrigerator closed with a slam, the chopping board plopped onto the bench with a thud. A knife hit the wood over and over, _chop, chop, chop_. “Otoyan fell asleep on Tokki in the middle of the movie, which ahh, it was so cute and lead to a reeeaaaallly interesting conversation but... I promised Tokki I wouldn't tell anyone! Ah, all well, these the burdens of senpai-ship. My cute little kouhais! They've grown up so much-” 

Though there was no change in volume, Reiji's voice seemed to fade away. It was usually oversaturation, or overwhelm that turned the brunette's voice into white noise, static, but in this instance he couldn't seem to hear his housemate over the sound of his own gears turning. Light bulbs switching on. Guilt, a punch to the pit of his stomach.

“Movie night? It was movie night, wasn't it? Shit.” The curse came out as a growl. Ranmaru's fingers flexed before closing into fists. How could he be so stupid? The older man's desperate effort for 'family bonding', his clawing attempts to help his bandmates get along. They were important attempts, yet his own self-importance eclipsed it, apparently. He was trying, trying so hard and yet he still forgot. “I'm...” He scratched the back of his neck and sighed. “I'm sorry.”

“It's alright RanRan. You had to work late,” Reiji said, as if it were an proper excuse. It might have been, if Ranmaru had remembered to tell him or had remembered their monthly movie night at all. “I'll be honest, attendance wasn't high. Myu was a no show, AiAi decided to stay in his room playing games. There's always next month.” It slipped through his lips like always, the catchphrase-like sentiment. There's always another month. Eventually, they'll come around. We'll be a real family.

In an instant Ranmaru sprang from the sofa and stomped towards the kitchen. He stood behind Reiji, who's knife still hit the chopping board, dicing tomato with practised ease. He seemed deeply engaged in his signature move – the invulnerable act, walls high enough he imagined they blocked out all sense of his suffering. Any sadness was a mockery of the real thing, quickly painted over with winks and smiles.

White knuckled, the rocker couldn't take another second of it. 

“Why?” Rough and raw, his black-painted fingernails pressed into his palms so hard he thought he might bleed. _Let me in_. “Why do you do it?”

The sound of chopping slowed to a halt. “Eh? Why do I do what?” 

“Put up with us. We're... just a bunch of assholes and you're... “ Ranmaru faltered, softened. Thoughts swirled faster and clearer than he could ever put into words. _So giving, running yourself into the ground trying to get us to show that we care. You're worth so much more than this._ “You're talented. Skilled. And uh, the music... You could make it with anyone, doesn't hav'ta be us. So... why?”

Ranmaru stood transfixed, heart in his throat. He watched the muscles in Reiji's back seem to stiffen as he lay the kitchen knife down and turned slowly. It was too easy to be drawn in by those gentle grey eyes, gaze soft with not sadness but sympathy. Easy to be shocked still by the unexpected tenderness in his voice. 

“Don't worry, RanRan.” The smile Reiji managed was bittersweet, honest. It reached out, like an invisible hand, squeezing around the rocker's heart. “I'm not going to leave you. After all you've been through? Never...” 

Reiji put a hand on a leather-clad shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if it didn't make Ranmaru's heartbeat accelerate to a doublekick drumbeat, make his cheeks flood with colour and force him to choke and splutter on his own inhale. No Reiji, all sweetness and wide-eyed smiles, continued as if all was right in the world. How? Did Reiji give an answer to the question Ranmaru never asked, shooting down the future saw around every other corner? 

“So don't you worry! We'll keep making music together, until I drive one of you crazy enough. You can bet it won't be Kotobuki Reiji that breaks up Quartet Night! I love you guys-” 

Beautiful masochistic idiot. Ranmaru's flexed his fingers again, trying to listen. Trying to make it through to the end, the bitter end, but it wouldn't stop, would it? Those lips, so full, just moved and moved and moved making their garbled sounds of guilt and hope and whatever the fuck else. 

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of bare shoulders, redundant ramblings aggressively swallowed by his chapped lips, forceful and guileless. It wasn't conscious or coherent. Hell, it wasn't even a kiss. At least not until he felt softer lips pressing against his own. Agreeing or acquiescing, it didn't matter. It was Reiji, all Reiji all at once, prying their lips open, warm and welcoming, tongue darting out to tease Ranmaru's bottom lip. It was Reiji, and the soft sigh of contentment that left Reiji's lips.

That sweet, soft sound was enough to spark Ranmaru's realisation. What had he done? What did he do? He tore away his lips and hands, the force of it staggering him backwards.

“Eh?” Reiji's fingers ghosted his lips, as Ranmaru watched in silence and shock. Did he really just do that? Did he really just...?

Instinct sent him spiralling, feet pounding against the floorboards until he was far, far away. Like a stray, beaten cat who had shown too much of his heart to a stranger, he slammed his bedroom door behind him and barricaded himself against it.

For awhile there was only his own laboured breathing for background noise. His chest heaved as if he'd run a marathon, heart hammered so hard he could feel it in his throat. “What the hell?” He growled at himself, as if a scolding would stop the memory from replaying over and over again; parting lips and the scent of cinnamon, the small sound of what, almost a moan? Fuck. _Fuck_. Fuck! “Fuck!”

“Ran _Raaan_?” The door muffled the obnoxious whine in Reiji's voice, so cute the rocker wanted to claw at his ears. “You're sending mixed messages again! Heh...” The idol chuckled as if it was nothing. From the sound of it, there was a bounce back in his footsteps and his voice. “Do you still want food? Oh, right. Of course you do! Stupid question, ne?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I'm not going to lie, this is pretty much just self indulgent Rei/Ran Otoya/Tokiya and Ren/Masa that no one asked for. I mean there's an outline and an overarching plot, and a feature chapter for each character but... you've been warned. Rated for future suggestive content!


	2. Tokiya - Moonlight

The sky spat down at the city below it, the fall of the rain as inconsistent as only nature could be. Tokiya had to adjust the speed of the faithful, methodical windshield wipers three times before the rainfall settled on a steady rhythm. Slow and gentle, like the rise and fall of Otoya's chest in the corner of Tokiya's vision.

The younger idol rested his head against a rain-spotted window with his eyes closed, ruffled red locks his only shield from the cold glass. 

It wouldn't have hurt to turn his head and take in the sight. The trains had long since stopped and the city's decent folk were long asleep, the only traffic on the roads being the odd taxi and late-night bus. Tokiya knew this area as well as the back of his hand, as well the feeling of Otoya's pulse under his lips, the soft whine he'd make as Tokiya's teeth grazed his skin- 

And so you see, he made an effort to keep his eyes fixed on the road, hands tight around the wheel. The evening's conversation circled in the somewhere in the back of his mind, sheer will blurring the words into white noise.

“Mm... So sleepy...” Otoya murmured, shifting around in his seat. He stifled a yawn and stretched his neck. Tokiya caught his pout in the rear view mirror as their eyes met briefly, contact broken by Otoya's gaze flitting quickly out the window. “Help me stay awake until we get home?”

“Usually it's the passenger helping the driver stay awake,” Tokiya let amusement lace his tone. “Should we talk about the riveting movie?”

“To-ki-yaaaa!” And there it was, like clockwork. He never tired of hearing it somehow, the way Otoya turned his name into the perfect, pleading verbal pout. “That's so mean. I feel so bad! I'll have to apologise to Rei-chan tomorrow again tomorrow. I can't believe I slept through the whole movie.”

“Don't worry about it. He was glad enough just to have you there.” Glad to have any company at all, Tokiya couldnt help but to think. 

They hadn't initially been invited to the movie night, athough as it was one of Reiji's band bonding night initiatives it was bound to go awry from the beginning. Reiji's favourite underclassmen had been enjoying a blissfully domestic night before Otoya had texted to ask how it was going. Reiji made a joke about having a mixing bowl of popcorn to himself and before Tokiya knew it, his roommate was rushing out the door to save their senpai from his backfired plans and telling him to hurry. He'd barely had time to slip in a bookmark and put his shoes on.

It wasn't as if Tokiya couldn't have said _'You go, I want to finish my book'._ That would have been a perfectly reasonable option. It just wasn't practical. If he stayed behind, Otoya would have to call a taxi after their senpai inevitably kept him long past the last train. Or worse _Reiji_ would drive him in his beloved car, showing up at the apartment at _2am_ and Tokiya would be left with the result of dealing with that duo after having hours to bounce off each other, only growing more hyper-energetic and filled with more ridiculous ideas despite the ungodly hour. At least if he was there he could try to keep things calm, and his own (much more discreet) car would get some use. And he wouldn't have to face Otoya's childlike attempt at hiding his disappointment when he'd refused and the way it still caused a little pang in his heart, even after all these years.

In the end, it had been worth it just for the smile on Reiji's face when he opened the door. Tokiya had felt a surge of affection for their upperclassman simply because of his nature, not that he'd ever admit it.

“If it makes you feel any better, Kotobuki-senpai stopped me from waking you up because he wanted to watch 'Otoyan's super duper cute sleeping face'.” Tokiya made sure to quote Reiji in perfect monotone for extra effect. In truth, they'd both agreed it was best to let Otoya sleep due to how hard he'd been pushing himself. Always going to extra mile, oft caught in the delusion that he was the weak link when the opposite was true.

Otoya chuckled, colour pricking his cheeks.“That sounds like something he would say...” He trailed off. His fingers drummed a steady rhythm into his thigh, the echo of a drumbeat he heard in his head joining the hum of the engine and oppressive quiet of the city peering in through the windshield. 

A song of its own, Otoya's quiet rhythms Tokiya could somehow hear, the province night so late it was morning. A dark car with tinted windows roared past, breaking the spell. 

“Was the movie any good?”

***

_Slender fingers combed through unruly red hair, causing Otoya to hum in his sleep. He nuzzled up into Tokiya's hand for a moment before his head sank back down onto it's chosen pillow – Tokiya's lap. While the petting had been somewhat absentminded affection, the sleeping man's unconscious reaction roused the full force of Tokiya's smile. It escaped all at once out of his eyes, love unrestrained and unguarded._

_The action film playing was nothing but static, a world away from the peace in Otoya's breath and Tokiya's study of his side-on profile; serene, a level of innocence reserved for well-loved children, puppies, perhaps saints._

_“Have you told him yet?” The question snapped him out of his reverie, so quiet he was barely sure his senpai had spoken._

_“What?”_

_“That you're in love with him. Does he know?” Reiji paused. His hands were interlaced behind his head, body entirely devoid of visible tension and grey eyes completely focused on the screen in front of them. It was as if he was asking about the weather, tone lazy and far too casual. “Otoyan, I mean.”_

_Tokiya found his muscles locking up one by one, hovered above just above Otoya's head.  
After poignant, long silence, Tokiya sighed. “In a sense. We discussed... feelings, a long time ago. And agreed we let couldn't anything happen. We couldn't do that to Starish.” For Starish. Years had passed since they'd last spoken of it and he still had no idea whether to count that motivation as truth, lie, guise or excuse. _

_It had been for Starish, those years ago in the Master Course dorm, that the word love was never used. 'You mean a lot to me', 'I like you', 'I care for you', dancing around the truth for fear of... so much. He remembered seeing the gears of Otoya's mind turn plain on his face as he decided not to say it, decided not to risk it. Was it doubt? Fear? Because he didn't think Tokiya loved him back? Because he knew Tokiya wasn't ready?_

_Why? Tokiya had never been able to answer or dared to ask. It kept him up at night far more often then their final decision. They'd settled on 'we want each other', as if it would suffice._

_Reiji chuckled softly, incredulously, and finally turned his head.“You're joking, aren't you? Kidding yourself, at least. You've been in love since before we met, that kind of thing doesn't have an off button.”_

_“We have an... arrangement. It's enough. We're happy like this.” It's enough._

_“Oh ho? An arrangement. Don't think you can pull one over Rei-chan! I'm a man of the world,” Reiji grinned slyly and tapped his nose as if in on some grand secret.“That's a fancy word for friends with sexy benefits.” Punctuated with an unnecessary wiggle of Reiji's eyebrows. Tokiya briefly thought about refuting trying to fool Reiji in the first place, he choice his words for tact rather than deceit. Sex was implied. He wrestled with that and pure exasperation until Reiji's next question derailed him.“And you're both happy with just sex?”_

_His hand carding through Otoya's hair was more to soothe himself than anything else. He remembered the night he stumbled into the dorm, cheap saké pungent in his breath, on his lips that sought Otoya's without warning or regard for consequence. He remembered that Otoya had asked no questions for fear of answers, taking the paltry, drunken lust Tokiya had to give as if it were the greatest of all gifts. He remembered waking in a tangle of limbs, that sweet sleeping face inches from his own and knowing that while Otoya would forgive him if he left without a word, he would never be able to forgive himself. When those crimson eyes opened, full with trust and adoration..._

_“The aforementioned benefits outweigh what remains unsaid, I think. It's safe. Otoya has no complaints.” Only smiles, and an infinite number of reasons for sneaking into his bed at night. Nightmares, the cold, the loneliness of a long day. Hearing each new reason was a pleasure of it's own, almost as great as the blinding grin he received whenever gently closing the door to Otoya's room behind him. Those rare nights he took the initiative seemed worth keeping rare for all the enthusiasm they invoked in Otoya. How he'd throw the covers off and race over to the door and throw his arms around Tokiya's neck, smashing their mouths together in a way that was it's own kind of sunshine._

_“Heh. No, he wouldn't,” Reiji smiles, but it seems sad. Almost, bitter. Tokiya wonders if it is because Reiji understands Otoya. The two are similar; both unequivocally happy with whatever scraps their loves deem fit to given them, eternally patient. Able to understand the love in actions over words, the harmony of the simple rhythms of everyday life. Able to give and give, expecting the barest of minimum in return, therefore delighted by anything 'extra'. Only, Reiji was aware of his disposition and therefore able to manipulate others around it. Otoya... truly had no idea._

_“It's not Otoyan I'm worried about, you know. You're the one being all Mr. Melancholy lately. Time is precious, Tokki, and you're losing it. You'll look back on this in ten years and wish you'd said 'screw the rules, I love you, Otoyan!' a lot sooner. So what if he already knows? What matters is you haven't said it, and you don't feel free to say it. Or to lean down and kiss his forehead, hold his hand, live your best couple-y life, even if it's just behind closed doors. Freedom is everything.”  
_  
***

It didn't take long to parse acceptable half-truth. Tokiya gave a small shrug. “Not really. Just lots of explosions and superheros, not much thematic consistency. Although... I may have missed some of it. It proved difficult to focus with Kotobuki-senpai being... well, Kotobuki-senpai.”

“Explosions and superheros sound cool,” Otoya grumbled half-heartedly. “I just hope Rei-chan had a good time, you know?”

Tokiya smiled a small, wry smile. “I assure you, he enjoyed himself.” Did Reiji ever not enjoy himself when adopting the guise of a self-titled master meddler? 

Curiosity glimmered in those deep red eyes, which he did not intent to humour. Luckily, distraction's hand was swift.

 **“Melo, melo, melo, melo,”** Ren's voice scored by chaotic synth emanated from Otoya's pocket along with little heartbeat vibrations. Tokiya tried to keep focused on the road while Otoya fumbled for his phone, but it was a small space and he was privy to one whole worrisome side of a conversation, and every other odd word of Jinguuji Ren's.

“Ren? Why would... I don't think so. We're on our way home from Rei-chan's and... No, Masa doesn't have a key. Why would he be in our apartment?” Tokiya heard Otoya's brow furrowing, “Hang on I'll ask Tokiya.” Tokiya flashed Otoya a glance long enough to see the pure affront cross his face, though it was plain enough in his voice. “Of course there's a point, he would so tell me if he had This is serious!” 

“What's serious?” Tokiya asked, though he could guess at the answer. He'd helped Hijirikawa prepare after all, given him some new recipes to try and what stunted emotional support he could manage. It wouldn't have surprised him to hear things had gone horribly wrong, given that was Hijirikawa's worst fear. That Ren would be left reeling to make up for some unprovoked insult or Masato would be forced to try something drastic to get his point across but not before the shame of it shrunk him to nothing. Such were the familiar patterns they trapped themselves in, not unlike the expanse of words unsaid and truths avoided by himself and Otoya.

Otoya who looked at him now, filled with panic, earnest and absolute. 

“It sounds bad! Masa's missing! Has he texted you? Quick, check your phone! Or, wait, you're driving. Pass it to me. I won't snoop, cross my heart! Ahh... this is bad, really bad...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tokiya's perspective was unexpectedly fun to write! (I was a little scared of it to be honest, he's an intimidating character and I hope I did him a little bit of justice.) And Otoya just seems like the type who would set his musical friends' ringtones as their own songs, to me anyway (Ren's is Mellow x2 Chu, and some more unnecessary information: Tokiya's is Roulette). This is unbeta'd, but still I'm so sorry I'm bad at being my own proofreader and that there were so many typos in the initial post of the first chapter! I combed back through and fixed all the ones I spotted after and hopefully have done a better job with this chapter.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and left kudos on the last chapter ^^ This really just me mucking around since despite being pretty new to the fandom UtaPri has its hooks in me pretty hard but it's nice to see people enjoying it!


	3. Ren - Dream More Than Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry? i'm sorry. I don't know what tonal consistency is. (warning: there's some very mild non-graphic violence and mentions of homophobia in this chapter)

_Earlier That Evening_

Candlelight, flowers, fine ceramics and opening bottles, the city glimmering in the world outside their world - old fucking news. The scene had long since been set, the hours of inane work conversation served as set dressing, an excuse for Ren look at him and listen to his voice, eat his food while the tension built towards the truths coming out. The first was Ren's own. The least important, the most obvious, a foot in the door. 

“-and so I gave it to him straight. Well, as straight as I can be. Which isn't very, you know. Honestly, hardly at all. ” A well placed wink, his signature wolfish grin. Ren watched it – and perhaps, the rich, red, tongue-loosening wine paired with their dinner – cause the pale skin of Masato's neck to flush a gentle pink, adam's apple bobbing with the effort of audibly swallowing. Such a sight, the kind of beauty that blurred the edges of his vision and stole a beat or two of his heart. 

“Strange that there's no shape adjacent word for it, isn't it? I can't say I'm curvy, curly, zigzag, wonky. Instead there's strange, queer. Leagues of confusion and the land of a thousand genders with space for me to want them all,” Ren continued without mercy, trying not to pay attention to the way Masato's lengthy lashes hadn't met in moments – eyes stalled and so wide they almost watered. “Anyway, I told him he'd been walking around set all day with lipstick on his collar and the poor boy just about turned purple. I think he almost fainted. So uptight, these new interns. Old world uptight, like how you used to be” 

Nothing. No response. Not even a blink. Masato turned to face the starless skyline without a word, spoon still in hand. Silence permeated his domain, thick and heavy in the air like smoke, for a moment so long it seemed glacial. 

Ren took it in his stride, until he couldn't. It was maddening, the nothing, all those years of build up for nothing; not even a nod, or an 'I already know'. Ren had verbally, tangibly come out outside of playful flirting and teasing taunts and it apparently amounted to absolutely nothing. He sighed a dream-like sigh, silver spoon scraping at the small, circular dish in front of him. Instead of filling the silence he filled his own mouth with the dregs of creme caramel. Velvet and vivid pleasure danced on his tongue, divinity itself. 

“Oh god, Hijiri,” Ren moaned in abject delight, “ _Fuck me!_ This flavour, what did I do to deserve this?” 

For once, he knew full well he hadn't done anything. Jinguuji Ren was a victim of circumstance most cruel. But that didn't take away the fun, the deep desire to do anything to get a reaction. 

Noticeably Masato's eyes were not pointed at his new, spacious apartment or even the tatami that stretched across the whole floor. It was furnished with elegant, traditional minimalism exactly as expected – as if his half of their old dorm had reached out and swallowed the whole of it. Had he been lonely. had been shut up in it, a veritable recluse in his silken cocoon? Ren was a little too busy watching Masato look out the window to ruminate beyond that throwaway thought. Brooding rarely suited him as anything outside of a visual style. 

Instead, he grinned. “If it means you're gonna cook for me like this you should hurt me more often, oh god. It's orgasmic. You don't even have to apologise, really. I'm a slut for your crème caramel.” 

At last, Masato turned back to face his guest. His frown was deep, shoulders sunken as if weighed down by the guilt of the world. The eyes were the killer though, painfully earnest. Pleading. 

“Hurting you was never my intention.” 

Ren's breath caught in his throat. The thousand things he could have said in return, none of them seemed to matter. 

“A consequence of my ill considered actions, but not my intention. Truly I did not intend to avoid you,” Masato said, each word certain. Purposeful. “Worse, I cannot expect to explain my reasons if I am unable to face them. Simply put I am undeserving of forgiveness, but even so... ” 

It was impossible not to be mesmerised, when those indigo hues turned kind and the depth of his caring came to light. Ren was spellbound. On instinct, one of his tanned hands reached across the table. The back of his hand brushed against the yellow petals marking the centre – camellias, longing – and beyond, fingertips reached stray strands of dark hair. To ghost against that pale skin, tuck the wandering locks behind Masato's ear... it was only natural. It was the only thing to do. All he could do. 

A fleeting, frozen moment. Over before either of them could question or process it. Such were the bounds of their moments, moments stolen from the edges of uncertainty, impulses impossible to suffocate but unwilling to be explained. It seemed their whole world existed in this transient, tense space. The only place truth could breathe, in the flush of their cheeks and their glazed gazes drawn together with increasing intensity. 

“There's nothing to forgive. Just... talk to me,” Ren murmured, warm somewhere deep in his chest.“Talk to _anyone_ , please. Avoiding the people who love you when you're suffering, it'll only make more chaos in the end. We're a team, yeah? You and I? Starish? Whatever it is I... we're here for you.” 

A few seconds too many and the thoughts kicked in. An anxious symphony performed right before his eyes. 

“I... I know. Thank you,” Masato smiled a wan smile. He stood suddenly, swiftly and stiffly, filled his hands with empty plates and his mind with scrubbing thoughts of cleanliness. It was in his every movement, no matter how stoic his face. It had become became difficult to miss just how expressive Masato was, how much of himself he poured into his environment. All the little things that defined him. 

Like the flowers. Ren was left staring at them, as an attempt to anchor, refocus. A western looking bouquet of white and yellow camellias, a far cry from the usual sparse ikebana arrangements. 

“Longing,” Ren murmured. Any good lover knew the language of flowers. “Waiting.” And any lover of Masato could appreciate his subtleties, even when they made bones and hearts ache. 

Time lost itself in the clacking of plates and the water gushing into the kitchen sink. Ren lost time, mind caught on all the years he'd watched and waited, supported from the sidelines because it was the right thing to do. Because he loved Masato too much to shatter his world, his sense of self, to risk everything on a selfish impulse. 

Would their future too, be lost time and missed moments? 

Ren hummed. He didn't know he'd closed his eyes until he opened them and made languid strides over to the kitchen. 

“Where are you keeping the tea-towels these days?” He drawled. His eyes trailed over the drawers and overhead cabinets, all pristine white, with a soundtrack of running water and the splashes fervent scrubbing. 

This routine was too familiar. Masato pretending that he hadn't felt anything, the calm before the real storm. Ren, playing along, biding his time. Hoping and praying and for what. For what? 

“You are the guest here, please, sit-” Masato started, without looking up from the sink. 

Ren held up one hand, a lazy kind of stop sign. The other ran through his hair, wind-tangled strawberry-blonde. 

“I want to.” He felt his lips twitch, a pang in his chest. “I miss it. Please.” 

_It_ – whatever it was – hung in the air, unexplained. Masato nodded, made a small noise of acquiescence and gestured to a drawer. The trove of tea-towels was stuffed with immaculately folded cloth in all manner of colours and patterns, in the equivalent of the position it had been in their old kitchen. Ren might have guessed. Just as the cutlery was surely in the top middle drawer, teapots in the leftmost cabinet and appliances at the bottom of the pantry. 

Some things were unchanging. 

Ren grabbed a plain white towel from the top of the drawer, part truce flag part bastion of blissful domesticity. Next to Masato, bodies inches away, he resumed the routine of drying dishes while Masato thoroughly scrubbed each dish a little too hard, for a little too long. There was a sacred silence to it, or always had been. Quiet space for Ren to watch the way the kitchen lights made Masato's side profile glow a little, for his eyes to fix on that beauty mark all over again whilst his hands worked on autopilot. The lingering warmth of wine provided Ren with insight that seemed heaven sent. 

Some things had to change. 

“Don't you ever get tired of dancing around the truth?” Ren asked, as if it was nothing. Masato's hands stilled in the water. “You weren't avoiding everyone, you know. Just me. When you're with me, you can't forget how much you hate yourself.” 

“ _Jinguuji._ ” Name like a warning, scalded like a hot iron brand. 

“What?” Ren tried to look innocent, unaffected, however cruel it came across. “We know the truth, you and I. You chose your path when you left your family. You chose self-acceptance. But you can't follow through. A part of you still wants to play by their rules, conform to their outdated expectations of what a man should be. What a _Hijirikawa_ should be.” 

The name had Masato turning to face him at last. Skin shifted from fair to ghostly pale, stripped of the wine's flush and anything but fear and rising bile. His arms were limp, hands dripped water onto the floor. 

“Stop.” A broken whisper. Lips parted in a beautiful, silent horror, he pleaded with the depth of his eyes. 

Ren's hands curled into fists, manicured nails making half-moon marks on his palm. Pain, so he'd push on. 

“Why? Why do you want me to stop?” He asked, but left no space for answers he couldn't bear. A hand found Masato's shoulder, squeezed tight. “Please, just, imagine, what it would be like if we had an honest conversation. Imagine what life-” Ren's voice cracked, raw and open. “What our life could be like, free from deceit and tradition and all of this bullshit? If you'd only acknowledge-” 

“Please don't!” 

“-this 'situation' you can't seem to come to terms with is just-” 

“Don't say it.” The the rasp of Masato's voice rang out, his plea hanging in the air. Damp fingers clutched the front of Ren's shirt, not pushing or pulling – clawing. “Please. Please, Jinguuji, please you can't...” 

Ren bit his lip, took a deep breath. It was like, standing on the edge of the known world. Just one step – one sentence – and he'd be plunged into the unknown, the terrifying, the new, the strange. Dreamlike, lucid as he was, it was as if their hearts beat so hard he could feel his in his throat and see the pulsing in Masato's chest. Ragged breath filled the space between them, space that had shrunk to a a pittance of inches. Words caught in their throats but eyes, those endless indigo eyes screamed with fear and feeling spoke to his own, cloudless blue begging for an end to the moment that stretched and twisted in ways he couldn't describe. 

“Maybe I can't. But you...” Ren shuddered. He felt the chill of Masato's hands through his shirt, as they crept upwards, blunt nails digging into him. “You're the poet. Hijiri, you-” The world started to spin when Ren tried to speak. Stark white against his tanned skin, slender fingers fixed around his neck. 

“You are defective.” The poet moved his lips, five slow syllables first; the rest a stumbling, broken rhythmless affair.“I have always known it, my son. That is what he said to me.” His fingers squeezed Ren's neck, a slow tightening vice. “Kinder, he said, to let me go than accept my choices, my _lifestyle_. Better for the family, better for everyone.” 

The voice, hoarse, beautiful, faltered. Masato's shaky exhale touched his lips, warm breath; his grip loosened, trembled, from bruising to barely there. 

“I am defective. Deserving of nothing, least of all love.” 

Ren, in all of his eloquence, breathed one word against those too-close lips. 

“Bullshit.” 

*** 

“And then he bolted. No phone, no keys, ran right out of his own apartment to well, who-knows-where. God, I'm stupid,” Ren sighed into the receiver, tensing at the memory. 

If he'd said anything else, if he'd just leaned in maybe, maybe... Didn't matter, did it? Masato had fled the scene like a man caught in the midst of a murder, left all of his essentials and usual good sense behind. 

“It's been hours, and none of the guys have seen or heard from him. Even got onto Kira, and nothing. He coulda made the last train to somewhere for all I know, but, I'll keep looking. If he shows up at yours-” 

“-I will notify you,” a soothing voice finished for him, melodic and methodical all at once. 

When taken in with the light drizzle of the rain against his – well, Masato's spare – umbrella and the gentle streetlight glow it was almost enough to settle his nerves. No neon signs to be found in this neighbourhood, or late night internet cafes or diners; after midnight all life but streetlight and distant lamps in windows puttered out. It was easy to feel alone in the world, chasing a ghost through empty parks and alleyways, if not for the phone hot against his ear and the many voices that had been emanating from it. 

“Great. I doubt he'd want to impose on you guys but, not sure where else he has to go. And I'd ask Ran-chan but...” Ren trailed off. 

“Ranmaru would want to wait it out until the morning. Or worse, Reiji will want to get involved and it is statistically likely that Ranmaru will let him, dragging this out into an unnecessary drama.” 

Ren found himself smiling, despite it all. It was nice to have someone who understood, not a part of his band or a mentor as much as a friend. 

“Exactly. Ah, Aimi, you're a lifesaver. Thank you so much.” 

“It's no trouble. If this resolves the tension between you, life will be significantly simpler for everyone involved,” Ai informed him, as if it was the most basic of facts. A motivation that absolved him of the appearance of caring and worry. 

“True enough,” Ren said. He stopped to look ahead at the stretch of straight road, no store-lights and no shadowy figures. A door slam sounded on the other end of the line, muffled but loud enough to assume it came from the room opposite Ai's. An unnaturally cheery voice followed, words unintelligible. 

“Sounds like there's some tension in need of release on your end too. Trouble in paradise, huh?” 

“Paradise?” Ai echoed with such a depth of exasperation, he sounded as if he carried the knowledge of centuries when he should have sounded like... well, a barely legal kid living with three dysfunctional older brothers. “Nothing in this place remotely resembles written depictions of heaven. There is never a shortage of trouble.” 

As was to be expected from pieces of a puzzle that fit together so nicely but wouldn't stop screaming about how they didn't want to, for fear of belonging or worse. Happiness. Maybe Ren was projecting, reading into things... but something in that sounded familiar nonetheless. 

“Can't live a life without trouble, Aimi. The good won't feel as good if you've never known the bad. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO the outline for this read something like: "Ren makes a sexual comment at dinner, Masato snaps and does something gay then runs." I spent the last idk long time trying to write that, but it felt too forced. Ultimately what came out is this sad gay disaster! Ren was particularly difficult to write and I'm not sure I did him justice but it was certainly a satisfying challenge. Next up is Reiji, so the next chapter should have more smiles and laughs. Whether they're real or not, that's the question. (i swear this has a happy ending)
> 
> On a lighter note Ai and Ren's friendship in the last SL event gave me life <3 They're so sweet and it was nice to try out their dynamic instead of ending on that one angsty word. Anyway!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading <3


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